


For Hawke, Not You

by Kaelynisfree



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age II Spoilers, Gen, I'm Sorry, Mentions of Isabela/Hawke, Nonbinary Hawke - Freeform, Sad, fenris & anders rivalry, mentions of hawke/merrill - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaelynisfree/pseuds/Kaelynisfree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's strange, but both Fenris and Anders agree that Hawke needs time away from their grief. They're just not sure how to get them there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Hawke, Not You

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a 5 times prompt ("five times Fenris and Anders agree on something")

They both recall, sitting with Hawke and rest of the crew at the Hanged Man, that Leandra was perhaps the best cook in Kirkwall.

Anders tells the story, trying to be as jovial as he can while Fenris looks on, watching Hawke carefully.

“I think it might have been the first time we spent time together in which we didn’t argue.”

“Yes,” Fenris adds simply, drinking straight from a bottle instead of from a glass like everyone else. “It was.”

Anders laughs to fill the void Fenris’s lack of banter leaves. “…It's very difficult to fight when you’re shoveling the best shepherd’s pie you’ve ever tasted into your mouth.”

Fenris tuts with more than a hint of disgust. “You were the only one _shoveling,_ mage. We were guests, not dogs begging for scraps.”

“Speak for yourself, Fenris,” Anders adds with a wink to Hawke. “I recall someone saying this scruff on my face gave me a rugged, wolf like quality.”

“Well, it wasn’t me,” Fenris says with a roll of his eyes. 

Hawke laughs and the whole room laughs with them for just a moment before burying themselves back into their glasses. Light air occurs, but it is brief, fleeting, and unsustainable. It doesn't mean Fenris and Anders do not try.  

“You can’t imagine how surprised I was to get an embossed invitation to Gamlem’s little hovel in lowtown,” Anders says before the awkward silence has time to settle. “Complete with the Amell seal.”

Hawke’s laugh strains. “Yes, well, mother always had a high town flare, even when we didn’t live there…”

Hawke can feel all eyes on them and they try to laugh more, but it’s difficult to do so when everyone is watching with pity in their eyes. 

Fenris’s words aren’t as quick as Anders’, but they have purpose. He drinks from the bottle in his hand and passes it to Hawke.

“You know, _mage_ ,” he says towards Anders. “Leandra’s cooking isn’t the only thing we’ve agreed upon.”

“You’ve agreed with Blondie on more than one subject and you never told me?!” Varric chimes in, reclining in his chair at the end of the table.

“It’s true,” Anders says.

“What is then? What in the world has Broody and Blondie agreed on?”

Their answer surprises everyone. “Bethany.”

This piques Hawke’s interest. They sit up and take a long drink from the bottle in their hand. “Do I want to hear what shared thought you two had about my sister?”

Fenris rolls his eyes. “It isn’t like that, Hawke. It was merely acknowledged that Bethany was the most terrifying of all of the Hawkes.”

Anders nods. “It’s true. She was scarier than you, Hawke, that’s for sure.”

“I’ve slayed an Ogre!" Hawke laments, clutching the bottle to their chest in shock. "Hordes of darkspawn! ...a Dragon! I am the most terrifying person in all of Kirkwall.”

Anders and Fenris look at one another then back to Hawke. “No. Bethany was definitely more frightening.”

Everyone around the table nods in agreement.

“Did you ever see her in action, Hawke? Or were you busy getting trampled by your enemies?” Varric adds.

Isabela laughs. “She was a frightening thing to watch, that’s for sure.”

Hawke opens their mouth to speak, but settles on listening to their friends tell their stories.

“I’ve never seen someone so calm while casting.” Anders waves his hands about as he describes her. “Taking down an enemy with a single bolt… rendering them useless with fear. All while looking as if she had been on a normal stroll through Lowtown. I don’t think there was a mage in circle who could do that.”

Although nostalgia is not as warming as liquor, a warm distant smile crosses Hawke’s lips. It’s nice to think about these things every once a while.

“At the bone pit, Hawke. Did you see her?” Merrill asks. “After the battle, I mean.”

Hawke shrugs. They’d honestly been a little busy _killing a dragon_. Nobody could fault them for not paying attention to every detail. 

“Not a drop of blood on that girl,” Isabela adds. “That takes talent.”

Hawke pouts and hooks an arm around Isabela’s shoulders. “You mean if I want to look scary, I have to fight while looking as if I’m not fighting?”

The rest of the table nods at one another in agreement.

“But I carry a really big sword, that has to count for something, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not about size, Hawke, but how you wield it,” Izzy says with a wink. Her comment is met with a general groan from the others.

Anders chuckles and catches a certain brooding elf crack a smile as well. Hm. Another thing they agree on. Wonderful. Cooking, terrifying mages, and now the validity of dicks jokes. The list grows. Not that they keep track of it all. But the fact that they can count on one hand the times they’d shared an opinion speaks volumes on the nature of their relationship. 

Izzy continues on with her jokes, mostly at Hawke’s expense, and it devolves into inane banter, Hawke slowly emptying the bottle in their hand all the while.

There is a point when Hawke begins drape around Isabela, touching her face, her hands, her thigh and while it hurts Isabela to do so, she puts a quick stop to it.

“Oh no, you don’t, Hawke,” she says, pushing their hands away. “I think it’s time for you to get some sleep.”

Fenris can tell she regrets every move, but as drunk as Hawke is, it wouldn’t be right. 

“Listen to the pirate,” Varric says with a grin. “You’re very drunk, Hawke. It might be best to sleep some of this off.”

Hawke pouts for just a moment, but Isabela is resolute. 

"Alright, fine. Lets sleep," Hawke slurs, standing on uneasily.

It takes all of them to get Hawke up and to the stairs, Varric at the lead, Merrill and Izzy holding their hands to make sure they don’t try to wander back down to the bar, while Fenris and Anders bring up the rear to make sure nobody falls backwards down the stairs. Namely, Hawke. Although Merrill did have enough drink, and considering the mess she’d made of her life, Anders and Fenris did not exclude the possibility that the blood mage might at some point fall backwards and hit her head on wall. Stranger things had happened before.

They make the trip up the stairs without incident and deposit Hawke on Varric’s bed as carefully as they can, but the warrior squirms so much, it’s like dumping out a bag of cats. 

“I’ll go grab a potion for the morning,” Merrill says, disappearing from the room. Izzy settles to the back, content to watch Varric, Anders, and Fenris attempt to remove Hawke’s armor in order to get them into the bed.

“Come on, Hawke, it’s time to sleep.” Varric’s voice is soft, kind. He continues, talking Hawke through the motions of getting each boot off and the plate of their armor off. It goes slowly, one boot at a time, Varric talking all the while.

Anders and Fenris agree that sometimes Varric should try closing his mouth. It’s not that Varric isn’t interesting, but sometimes the incessant talking got to be too much. 

“Don’t put your boot back on, Hawke,” Varric says, pulling a boot from their drunk friend’s hands. “It’s definitely not time for another adventure.”

Hawke pouts, leaning into Fenris’s shoulder. Yes, there are moments when both Anders and Fenris feel the need to ask Varric to be quiet, but at this moment, they can’t help but be thankful that Varric always has something to say.

Hawke continues to hold onto the bottle, cradling it as if it’s their only anchor in such an unrelenting time instead of the many friends that literally held them upright.

“My friends… you are too kind,” they say, swaying between Fenris and Anders. “What did I do to deserve people like you?”

“You stalked us relentlessly until we said we would help you,” Izzy offers while picking up a piece of plate that Varric discards, trying to keep the mirth in her voice.

“I always enjoyed when they showed up at the alienage so often!” Merrill places a single healing potion on Varric’s nightstand. “I never new what to do with myself all alone in the alienage.”

“There are lots of things you can do alone in your house, Kitten,” Isabella adds with a smirk.

Merrill chuckles, covering her mouth. “Isabela!”

“What? I’m just saying.” Izzy hands Merrill a boot. “You could pick up a hobby.”

Hawke takes another swig, swaying towards Anders. “Right. A hobby. She wants Merrill to get a hobby. We could… do your hobby… together…. sometime.”

Hawke tries to wink but instead blinks both eyes and squints. “oh wow, that’s spinning…”

Fenris pulls their arm so they steady and wonders if he should take the bottle back.

Hawke flips to the other side, and rests their cheek on Anders feathered shoulders, letting out a long sigh. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” they say in a drunk reverie. “So glad to have you as friends…”

Anders pats their hand. “We feel the same way, Hawke.”

“I don’t deserve any of you.” Hawke waves the bottle around, resolute. “You all spend so much time with me, it’s a wonder you’re still alive…”

They go silent again and Hawke continues. “…Is it because you can defend yourselves?”

“Come on, Hawke…” Varric says carefully, patting them on the knee. “It’s time for sleep.”

“…I can’t help but wonder.” They wave the bottle in the air again and Fenris takes this chance to pluck it from their hands. Hawke reaches for it with a flimsy wrist, but Fenris swats their hand away. 

“you’re all capable fighters…”

Anders reaches for their hand.

“If mother had known how to fight, could she have-”

“That’s enough, Hawke,” Merrill pleads from her corner. Anders squeezes their hand.

They shake their head and rub their face into the feathers. “No, you’re right. It probably wouldn’t have helped… Quentin was a powerful mage, after all…”

Izzy scoops up a gauntlet off the ground and shakes her head. 

“If I’d gone up against him alone, I probably would have died as well…”

Nobody dares dispute it and the silence continues after that. Fenris and Anders know there is no saving the mirth after a comment like that. 

It ends up taking all five of them to get Hawke tucked into Varric’s bed. It’s a struggle, as Hawke attempts to get up and won’t focus on one task for more than a second at a time, but Isabela captains them as if Hawke is her ship in a hurricane and the rest are her sailors. 

Anders untucks the bed and Fenris keeps Hawke from falling off. It’s almost as if they’re working as a team. Almost.

“…out of all the people in all of Kirkwall, why’d she have to be the one to die?” Hawke says as they finally curl up into the middle of it all.

Anders catches Fenris’s eyes from the other side he can see the man sigh as he pulls a blanket over Hawke. 

It’s strange to think of it now, while putting their inebriated and grieving friend into bed, but it’s something new they both agree upon. That this is not right. That Hawke deserves more than this. They shouldn’t have to constantly grieve. It's not right. 

“Party’s over, guys. Time to let Hawke rest,” Varric says when he notices they’re all just watching Hawke in middle of the bed, murmur their grief drunkenly. He knows any minute they might start to cry, and that sort of thing is private. Even Varric knows there are some moments you just don’t share. “I’ll let you know how they’re doing in the morning.” 

Everyone is slow to file out of the room. Hawke still talks drunkenly, even with just Varric in the room. They can hear it through the closed door. 

The Hanged-Man is quiet, and the rest of Lowtown seems to be as well. Fenris walks with Anders, not that it’s revolutionary. They don’t joke or talk. But they walk together until their paths break off, to dark town and to high town.

“I’d say goodnight,” Anders starts, in an attempt to leave things lighter than was left at the Hanged-Man. “But-”

Fenris cuts him off quickly. “You do not need to bid me good-night, _mage._ That was for Hawke. We are not friends _._  ”

“I know."Anders stops with a heavy sigh. "You’ve made that abundantly clear. It’s dangerous at night. I was only wishing you safe travels. Maker knows Hawke would.”

“Well then, I’m glad we agree on something,” Fenris says curtly before disappearing towards Hightown. Sometimes Anders can’t help but think why he tries so hard. 

Years later, Anders wonders if it’s the last thing they agree upon before he blows up the Chantry.

The two take up the rear as they charge their way through the gallows in a final attempt to save… someone. Anyone really. It's hard to know who they're fightng for when there is just mass chaos. They’re following Hawke. They made it clear years ago they’d follow Hawke anywhere. Even in a battle they are sure they can’t win.

“Hawke should have killed you when they had the chance,” Fenris says during a lull in the battle. 

Anders pours healing into a gash in Fenris’s arm as he watches the wound slowly closes.

“Well then,” he says. “I’m glad we agree on something.”


End file.
